


Kiss Number Seven: Avapeeditha

by a_xmasmurder



Series: The Eight Types of Kissing [7]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: And the agents are awesome, Committees suck, Developing Relationship, Frustration, Kissing, Life and Such at MI6, M/M, Q gets a surprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 14:15:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/901243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_xmasmurder/pseuds/a_xmasmurder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>7. Avapeeditha – This is suckling the lips, i.e., pulling the woman's lips into the man's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss Number Seven: Avapeeditha

Q shuffled the papers in his hand, picked up his tablet, and walked out of the conference room. He walked down the hall to the elevator and pressed the button for the lowest floor. The doors slid open, and he walked in, executed a perfect parade turn, and waited until the doors closed before he slipped everything into his messenger bag, set the bag on the faux tile floor, and screamed, “Buggering, ruddy _fucking_ cunts!” That was his only vocalisation for the duration of the ride down to the catacombs of Q Branch. The doors opened once more, and he made a beeline to his private office on this floor. He opened the door and slipped it shut behind him. This time he rounded his desk, plopped down onto his chair, and took his computer out of sleep mode. He stared at the open programme on the screen, trying not to break down and cry.

This whole weapons project was his baby. He put in extra hours in order to get all the schematics and blueprints finished. He worked overnight five out of seven days for two months to smooth all the kinks in the designs. He put his own money into working prototypes. He tested them personally despite the dangers of new weaponry - all of this on top of his usual workload. He hadn’t slept for weeks. He wanted to make the agent’s lives a little safer and a little easier, and the bastards shot it down. ‘It’ll cost too much.’ ‘They already have enough weapons, why give them more?’ ‘They are doing just fine with what they have.’

“No they are bloody not, they are getting _killed_ because of the outdated shit we give them!” Q slammed his fist onto his desk and squeezed his eyes shut against the hot burn of tears. “ _Shit!_ All they get is shit because they are expendable fucking puppets to you _fucking arsebags!_ ” The screen flicked off again, and Q lowered his head to the desk and breathed, in and out, like his therapist had told him to do when he was ten and kept having panic attacks.

“Q?”

He raised his head to find Bond in his doorway, a worried expression on his face. He was aware that his eyes were red and puffy, since he’d been crying just minutes ago, but he couldn’t be arsed to wipe at them. “Can I help you, Bond?”

“Are you alright? Malcolm found me in the gym and told me you were rather upset about something.”

Q looked around. One of his people actually went and found _Bond?_ Who the hell put two and two together - oh, wait. The kiss while he was hacking. “I’m...fine, now. Thank you for your concern, but I’m fine.”

“No you aren’t.” Bond scowled at him, still looking worried. “You were crying.”

“Yes, but I’m not now, am I?” Q felt prickly and snarly, and he didn’t like it, but he just didn’t want people near him when he was like this. Whiny. Weak. Crying because he didn’t get his way, like a fucking child. “So, no concern needed, 007.” _Using Bond’s designation should give him the hint..._ except it didn’t. Bond stepped into the room and shut the door behind him, then sat down on the desk.

“Not getting rid of me that easily.”

“ _Bond._..” Q growled at the insufferable man.

“Q. It’s alright. Word’s gotten around about the meeting.” Bond picked at a bit of lint on his trouser leg. “We...appreciate what you are doing.”

Q looked up. “‘We’?”

“Us. The agents. We like knowing someone’s watching our backs. So a few of us are going to pool together some money and convince Armalite to make the new guns for you.”

Q stared. “Wh -”

“Call it a necessary expenditure or something.”

“Bu -”

“Not like it’s going to matter, since we tend to spend money extravagantly, anyway.” Bond shrugged, leaned down, and pulled Q into a kiss before the he could sputter another half-voiced question. Q tried to struggle, but it was pointless - Bond had him pulled in tight, and his mouth pressed against the agent’s own with a sudden urgency that he hadn’t felt before. He wanted to disappear into Bond, become part of him and never leave him. He wanted to go on the missions with the man and make sure he came back alive. He pressed even closer, and Bond’s mouth opened, his tongue slipping out to coax Q’s even closer. Bond closed his lips over Q’s lips, first the bottom, then the top, and suckled on them each in turn. Q felt the beginnings of arousal stirring low in his gut, and stood fully so that he could get leverage in the kiss. But Bond pulled away abruptly. Q jerked forward, following the man’s lips. Bond pressed his fingertips to Q’s mouth.

“Supper first. My treat. Then I’m going to take you home, so that you don’t have to hide.”

“James.” Q shook his head. “I don’t have to be coddled -”

“But you do have to be thanked.”

“For what?”

Bond slid off the desk and held out a hand to Q. “For giving a shit.”


End file.
